A Little Earlier
"Hmm. The dream team," Tony grimaced as he looked at the motley crowd displayed on the cameras. He had long doubted whether it was worth gathering a whole horde of armed, chromed, and murderous thugs—many of whom were also on drugs—in one place. There were simpler ways to lose an army, but the legendary solo he had hired to coordinate the operation reassured him, promising to personally maintain discipline. And he did—by stringing up anyone who tried to cause trouble or rock the boat by their testicles.
"If you wanted something better, you should have arranged it earlier," Andrei Gennadievich shrugged phlegmatically. The man, who looked to be in his fifties, was dressed in a wife-beater, saggy sweatpants, and a ushankat hat, puffing on a cigarette filled with something far stronger than tobacco.
"We would have been exposed, Andrei Gennadievich," Tony replied, and with genuine respect. Despite his appearance, the man standing before him was a true legend, born in the last century.
Andrei Gennadievich Sukharev had grown up in the old USSR, experiencing the Great Patriotic War as a boy, helping partisans and firing at Germans. He had fought in the Korean War, volunteered in Vietnam against the Americans, and then spent years hunting terrorists in Afghanistan. He was one of the oldest people on the planet, the only successful case of transplanting an old brain into a cloned body. He possessed an immense amount of experience in killing—both personally and through commanding subordinates. The only problem was his extremely difficult personality, complete disregard for authority, pathological honesty, and a habit of speaking the brutal truth even to superiors' faces. This had prevented him from rising above the rank of captain in the military hierarchy, acquiring significant connections, or finding a suitable patron in the Communist Party. After the Soviet "perestroika" at the turn of the millennium, he had bluntly told the new General Secretary to go to hell, fought his way through the Kremlin Guard, and vanished abroad, becoming a mercenary. Given that even Stalin had invested heavily in him as the most promising operative with legendary status, and subsequent Soviet leaders had followed suit, Sukharev was a one-man army. Robert and Claire, as deep modifiers with elite implants—essentially upgraded cyberpsychos using a hybrid approach—were products of a project designed for mass production. They were meant to be, and ultimately became, a mass-produced type of fighter, difficult to produce but only in terms of time and resources. Andrei Sukharev, however, was a unique product. The implants, genetic procedures, rejuvenation surgeries, and organ replacements developed exclusively for him, along with a special brain implant allowing him to connect his mind to a new body without complex, highly individualized operations (the documentation for which only he knew, as its creator had died during his escape and all records were destroyed), and his colossal combat experience—unmatched by anyone alive—made him something else entirely. Some might argue that his implants were outdated, given that seventy years had passed since his escape, but such a person fundamentally misunderstood the specifics. Any handcrafted, individually tailored item, created without time or resource constraints and not intended for mass production, would outperform its mass-produced counterparts. The combat implants of the 2020s, for example, were still highly valued by many individuals, as that era was one of experimentation, prototypes, and quality solutions. Engineers of that time simply didn't know how to make implants poorly—they were too new. Models from that era still surpassed most mid-range analogs today, truly yielding only to high-end chrome costing tens of thousands of eddies. The more complex the mechanism, the better its handcrafted counterpart. So, despite his age, long-unupgraded chrome, and a far-from-easy half-century, this old man remained a natural war machine in humanoid form—and the main reason Tony wasn't overly worried about the operation's success.
"Not much of a problem either way—it's still a pain in the ass," Sukharev said, smoking half his cigarette in one drag.
"Are you not happy with the job? Not thrilled with the order?"
"Nah, I'm always happy to screw over the corps," he grinned a truly terrifying smile. "Just had to wake up from a dead sleep for this gig, and people my age don't like their routines disrupted. So I'm grumbling. Pay no mind, kid. I'll earn my keep, especially with pay like this."
"Glad to hear it," Tony nodded. "Alright, you get ready. You have the facility blueprints—give your orders. I'm heading out."
"Got it. Good luck, kid, and don't die in there. The world has too few good people as it is."
"I'll do my best."
Leaving the nondescript building, Tony quickly made his way to the first group.
The fixers had done well, ultimately pulling every elite fighter they could reach from Warsaw and its surroundings, bringing the total number of hired gun-and-knife specialists to four hundred. The cost was better left unsaid—Omnissia would grumble—but in short, Tony was no longer a millionaire. Not poor, far from it, but his financial cushion was significantly reduced. Still, he didn't regret it. Finally, Stark was back in his element, saving innocent people from villains and standing against an organization of outright scum (he couldn't call people who sent children to their deaths anything else).
Honestly, after regaining his memories, Tony had been lost, stuck in a kind of procrastination for nearly a decade. Yes, he did things, strived for goals, but without much passion. He acted because he had to, not because he wanted to. But now… now he felt like himself again—the man who had faced the horrors of the galaxy and emerged victorious, who solved global problems and extricated himself from the worst predicaments. Was he in a different world? So what? Alone, without the support of friends and comrades? He'd manage. Lost his father's corporation? He'd build his own from scratch, and damn how many throats he'd have to tear out to do it. All that remained was to take the first, most important step: break free from the swamp that had ensnared him and start living to the fullest. Left to his own devices, he might not have managed it. The events had hit him hard, especially the second death of his new parents, compounded by fresh memories of his old ones. But this situation with Lucy—his little, sweet, sometimes prickly kitten—had done the trick, forcing him into motion like when he was held captive by terrorists, triggering a kind of reboot.
According to the plan, the operation's initial phases would take place at night, when a significant portion of the personnel would be scattered in the dormitories, including the guards. Civilians wouldn't interfere, and the guards would need extra time to arm themselves and reach their posts. This phase involved hacking the enemy's security system and moving combat groups to designated areas. Since the complex was underground and the main entrance—the only one through which hundreds of fighters could pass—was the most heavily defended, Tony had resorted to a trick: equipping some of the squads with directional vibro-acoustic bombs. These were complex, finicky, unreliable devices that horrified any decent engineer both in concept and execution, but they would suffice for a one-time task: breaching the ceilings of a former Cold War bunker to create a vulnerability. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be done for the other levels, as the complex floors had an additional layer of vibration-absorbing polypropylene, preventing the vibrations from interfering with the nuclear reactor's operation. But for the first phase, this would do. The first wave's task was to secure the main entrance to allow unrestricted access for the main forces. The digital hack of the security system was necessary to disable traps, cameras, turrets, and mines during the first phase, but most importantly, to lower the nuclear reactor's protective shutters, preventing the guards from detonating it after breaching the lower levels via secret elevators. The second phase involved breaking through to the connecting walls of the secret escape routes, through which half of the available forces would be sent to strike the guards from behind and take control of the nuclear reactor. This was the plan's most delicate and vulnerable part, but it also made it maximally feasible and simple. Reach the target, and success was practically guaranteed. Fail, and they'd have to find another way. There was no time or resources for anything truly complex. The second phase heavily depended on speed—before the security system could reboot and turn its full power against the intruders. A hundred guards with corporate chrome and top-tier weaponry were problematic enough, especially given the well-designed fortifications, promising to halve the mercenaries' numbers by the end of the second phase. If even the automatic turrets joined in, things could take a very unpleasant turn. Unfortunately, fully controlling Arasaka's electronics was impossible with current resources and available power (even with Omnissia). Only a temporary takeover with a full reboot could buy time, but not turn Arasaka's weapons against itself. The third phase was simple: pinned down from two sides, the guards would be too preoccupied to attack the entrenched opponents, allowing Tony to find Lucy and the other children, lead them to a safe tunnel, and retreat with the mercenaries who had gone to the lower levels. From there, they would make their escape to the small private airport, where a plane with a Polish diplomatic code and a taciturn pilot awaited Tony and Lucy, while Skalka's agents would handle the other children. Tony would have taken everyone with him, but they'd be safer away from him and Lucy. He didn't believe Ryu would forgive such a slap in the face, and in general, it was harder to search for two people than one young man with a bunch of spineless lackeys.
"Ready?" Tony asked Omnissia, who stood at the head of the first squad, which was to break through to the nearest access point from where they would hack the system together.
"Ready."
"Andrei Gennadievich, we can begin."
"Five-minute readiness," came the reply over the shortwave radio—a dubious-quality, antiquated device with a range of only four hundred meters, but the best option for operating in an underground base crawling with netrunners.
The five minutes passed quickly. Some prayed, others injected combat stimulants, and a few performed their personal rituals, but everyone, without exception, checked their weapons. Everyone except Tony—he trusted his creations implicitly. Instead, he was completely calm. Given his experience fighting cosmic entities, interstellar empires, gods, and those feared even by gods, participating in a poorly prepared assault on a base of one of the world's most powerful transnational corporations didn't evoke strong emotions. Yes, he wasn't what he used to be, but what did that change? He was Iron Man, and he was saving children from the clutches of mad vivisectionists. That said it all.
And then came the moment of truth. The charges were placed, Sukharev pressed the detonator, and a series of short explosions created passages. The fighters quickly secured ropes for descent, and half a minute later, the first shots rang out.
"So, what delights does the twilight Japanese genius have in store for us?" Tony thought as he connected to the access point. Linked to him via wireless connection, Omnissia helped him bypass one security layer after another while the mercenaries exchanged fire with the guards and turrets, dying from mines or burning in the fire of hidden napalm-spewing pipes.
Gaining access to the internal system and triggering a reboot of the security protocols was simple—all it took was launching an extremely noticeable, persistent, hard-to-remove virus. According to the protocols of experienced (and thus paranoid) netrunners, this would forcibly shut down anything that could kill. Such a weakness in the security system made sense, given the number of mechanisms per square meter designed to kill. If someone were to take control, the base would at least lose almost all its guards.
"Sometimes more is worse," Tony muttered with satisfaction, setting to work on hacking the nuclear reactor's chamber… which refused to be hacked.
It took Tony three long minutes to understand the simple truth: the reactor's emergency shutters were connected to the main network, but they could only be lowered all at once, not selectively. This was done to protect valuable personnel from radiation and prevent leaks beyond the base, which made… no logical sense. It would have been simpler and more reliable to install automatic shutters with detectors rather than this nonsense, capable of dividing the entire structure with one-and-a-half-meter-thick lead doors with heat-resistant coating. However, everything fell into place when Tony and Omnissia dug into the backup power settings, which, in the event of reactor failure, were not supposed to power the equipment but activate a powerful EMP in conjunction with the reactor to destroy all digital electronic media. In other words, instead of an emergency system, Arasaka had built a self-destruct system. Apparently, management wasn't so detached from reality as to believe people would willingly blow themselves up to protect corporate secrets, so they had taken precautions. Smart. Smart, but inhuman.
"What do we do?" Omnissia asked over the comms.
"Improvise," Tony chuckled… and began hacking the nuclear reactor. If you can't prevent it, lead it. Since they couldn't cut off Arasaka's self-destruct path, they would execute it themselves—but on their terms. "Omnissia, calculate the parameters for a localized reactor overload. We'll push it to its operational limit, bring it to the critical heating point, and then shut it down emergency-style. Then, no matter how hard the little white monkeys try, they won't be able to restart it, let alone detonate it."
"Executing," Omnissia responded.
They were genuinely lucky that the reactor here was Russian, designed after the Chernobyl disaster. After that tragedy, Soviet nuclear scientists had developed a multitude of safety protocols and engineering solutions to enhance the strength and safety of nuclear power sources, which the Communist Party had mandated across the board. Entire regions powered by nuclear energy could go without electricity for weeks while nuclear power plants built to old designs were modified to meet new safety standards. The Russians, terrified by the disaster, quietly endured, systematically changing their entire school of nuclear physics toward enhanced safety. As a result, all their nuclear reactors were equipped with multiple emergency shutdown methods, operational sensors, and three purely mechanical methods for stabilizing the atomic core. This included their software, which, at its core, was programmed to prevent activation in case of containment damage, elevated temperatures, or structural integrity compromise. A small, controlled explosion would achieve just that. There was a risk of fuel leakage, but it was minimal, and at worst, they'd have to deal with steam from the irradiated reactor—a deadly but not highly radioactive hazard. If anyone suffered, it would be the Arasaka personnel, and Tony didn't care about them. He would have leveled the entire place, turning it into an unmarked mass grave, but the mission to save the children took priority.
The hack took nine minutes. On one hand, given the target, it was incredibly fast. On the other, considering the situation, it was unacceptably slow. Still, they managed to hack the system, and while Tony waited for the reactor to overload, he decided to, shall we say, greet the hosts.
"Testing, testing. Can you hear me? Of course you can," he said, genuinely amused. "It's awfully gloomy in here, ladies and gentlemen of the corporation. Let's fix that!" Choosing the perfect moment, he spoke—and the entire complex shook with a powerful explosion, adding weight to his words. "If you didn't hide, that's on you!"
"What was that?!" Andrei Gennadievich came over the comms.
"Had to change the plans a bit, but everything's fine," Tony replied on the run, executing the next phase of the plan, holding a light machine gun in one hand and taking out three corporate operatives in a single burst. What could he say? His optimized brain had worked hard, unlocking his genetic potential inherited from two high-level modifiers in all its glory.
"...Alright," the old man said after a brief silence. "We've taken the central gates. Three minutes and we'll let the main forces in. Where are you?"
"Corridor 14, moving to 17," Tony reported.
"Copy that. ETA for rendezvous is six minutes."
"Understood. See you there."
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100 power stones= 1 Bonus Chapte
advanced chapters available on{P@treon/Anna_N1}